*Okay here' goes. My X-Men fanfic. I'm pretty sure i'm gonna write one about logan soon...but wade is my absolute freakin favorite so he comes first...victor too. So...enjoy! I don't actually know the whole Deadpool story line, so I'm going off of what I saw in the movie (5,000 times) excuse any lack of accuracy*

Merc With(out) a Mouth

We were a bunch of guys with talent, special talent. We obeyed William Striker and did great service to our country. We killed when necessary, and sometimes when it wasn't. we lied and cheated and got what we wanted. We were young, living in our prime...even if that meant being alive since before 1845. We were strong, indestructible, and had a promising future ahead of us as the best at what we did. And somewhere along the line, Logan found a sense of right and wrong.

I'm not gonna tell you that I knew what I was translating, I didn't know what I was doing it for. William wanted that weird looking rock, and I was under his command...some things will never change. Victor was out for blood, he was itching to kill...I wasn't much different. All of us were standing at the ready, tense, patient, waiting. The tribal guy shouted things, I said things, and william just kept demanding more. But more wasn't enough, more was never enough. And then we were fighting...that's where it all went wrong. One second people were screaming, the next, Logan was telling Victor that "this wasn't what we signed up for".

We disbanded shortly after he left. We all went ur seperate ways. What I did, doesn't matter, what the others did doesn't matter either. But we were tied together quickly, as if fate refused to let as be. Victor was knocking at my door while I was chillin' in my boxers drinkin' a beer and watching some stupid game show. The next thing I knew, I was lying on a cold metal table, looking up into a glaring whiteblight.

"Wade? Wade Wilson? Can you hear me?" Striker stood over me, looking the same as he always had.

"Striker...."

And black out....again...

The cell they kept me in was in the back, near the window where the cold 3 Mile Island air could claw at my body. I was off my lifting schedule and high protein diet...I felt miserable. There were other mutants around me, frightening ones. Ones who weren't normal looking, who screamed at night. Screamed in pain, for their families or to die, or to leave. And I was stuck there. Minutes turned to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, and yet, no one came to tell me what I was doing there. I figured he just wanted to keep an eye on me. Damn was I wrong.

Stiker came to visit me one night, long after I had been told to go to bed. He asked me if I wanted to be the ultimate soldier. If I wanted to get back at my past and show the world what I was made of. It was like a challenge to my deepest pride, I couldn't turn it down. What mercenary would ever let downt he chance to be THE best? Certainly not I.

He told me my body was strong enough and my will was tough. He said I could stand whatever this operation would contain.

No fuckin' duh.

There's something about people driving you to the point of insanity with pain that makes you leave your concious body. And when you're not there, you're very much capable of withstanding the agony of becoming "deadpool".

I use to follow William Striker's every command. Not because I have to, but because I wanted to...now I have no choice.

I have no mouth. No hair. No will power of my own. I am the perfect soldier. I can't not talk or fight orders. I am a mercenary with no mouth. I am a man with no soul.

I am not Wade Winston Wilson...

I am Deadpool